


For the Sake of Art

by PineByPine (Tyrannosaurus_Sex)



Series: One Pine To Another [1]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-05
Updated: 2019-07-05
Packaged: 2020-06-09 17:37:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19480762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tyrannosaurus_Sex/pseuds/PineByPine
Summary: Mabel needs to draw from a live model, and options are thin on the ground.





	For the Sake of Art

“You are a lifesaver, Dipstick. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.” Mabel threw her arms around her brother’s neck and squeezed him.

“It’s not a big deal, right? I’ve just got to stand still for a little while; easiest job in the world.” Dipper forced a chuckle.

Mabel released him and snatched up her sketchbook. “Well, you’re still saving my bacon. So muchos credito to you, anyway.” She plopped herself on her cot and opened the book on her knees.

Dipper turned his back and dropped his battered old hat onto his duffel. Nothing weird about this, right? The human body was supposed to be a natural thing and all that. He grabbed the hem of his t-shirt and lifted, dumping the garment on the floor. He dropped his pajama pants, stepped out of them, and turned back to face Mabel, heart thumping in his chest.

She gave him an expectant look.

“Was there something else?” He grabbed his wrist with his other hand. it was colder in here that he’d thought.

“Broseph,” Mabel winced, “the tighty-whities gotta go too.”

“Wait, what?! You didn’t say anything about that!”

“I need to draw the human body,” she indicated up and down him, “all of it.”

Dipper pulled a face. “Even Little Dipper? You’re art class is going critique my nads?”

Mabel rolled her eyes. “Tell you what, I’ll take a couple of artistic liberties with the under underwear bits and pass your number out to the cute girls.”

Dipper felt himself starting to blush. He took a breath. He had agreed to this and Mabel swore that if she didn’t have a full sketchbook by the end of the summer, her professor was going to fail her. “Whatever, just don’t make me look goofy.” The underwear joined the pile.

He struck a pose and waited. The room was very still for a very long pause. He glanced at her without moving his head. “Is this no good?” 

“What?!” Mabel startled. “Oh, no. Yes, that’s fine. Let me see here.” She shook her head and her pencil started moving furiously over the paper, filling the silence of their attic room with the sound of soft scratching. After a few minutes, she asked him to change position.

“How this?” He turned and placed both hands on the back of his head.

“Yea, that makes your shoulders and back look cool.” 

More scratching for a long while. His arms were starting to get a little tired. The sound of her flipping the page over was surprisingly loud. He asked if he could sit for the next pose and she gave him a faint “mmhmm.” He flopped on the cot and leaned against the rough wood of the wall.

He didn’t feel so cold anymore; he was probably getting used to it. He bent his leg before him and leaned an elbow on his knee. From this position, he could actually watch her work. It was all furtive glances back and forth from him to the paper while her hand never stopped moving. Thin dark eyebrows knit together in concentration, and he could see the very tip of her tongue poking into the corner of her mouth.

Her eyes went back to him and she froze, still as a statue. From her eye-line, he could tell she wasn’t looking anything in his upper half. He glanced down and panicked.

“Oh jeez, sorry.” He grabbed a pillow and crammed it on to his lap. He couldn’t stop himself from letting out a long petering chuckle, all nerves and awkwardness.

Mabel blinked. What she blushing? It was hard to tell from here. She unfroze and her eyes locked with Dipper’s. He saw her body curl in a little, putting her knees and the sketchbook between them. “Yeah, no problem, bro-bro. These things happen.”

“It’s sort of an autonomic response; pretty much out of my control.” He could feel the tips of his ears starting to burn.

“Should I give you a minute?”

He sighed. “May not help any. Better just get this over with; let me turn back around.” He knelt on the cot and leaned his arms against the wall. He tried to pretend he was alone, to shut out the sound of pencil on paper from behind him that meant Mabel had resumed looking at him, resumed studying him. He could hear his own heartbeat in the blood rushing through his ears.

The sound of the sketchbook slamming shut was like a gunshot in the quiet of the room.

Her words came out in a flood. “Okay, that’s good. Thanks a lot, bro. I think I’ve got enough for today. You can get your clothes back on.”

He heard her moving behind him as he pushed himself off the wall to stand. He turned back toward her and froze. She’d risen as well; they stood in the narrow aisle between the cots, so close that Dipper could feel the air moving with her breath. She gasped as their eyes met and he saw her gaze flick down and back up. He looked down as well.

“Sis,” he croaked, “you sort of standing on my underwear.”

Her eyes went wide and she looked down again. “Oh yes. So I am. Sorry.” She took a step back and crouched, snatching them off the pile. Her arm shot up to offer them up to him. She looked up and her expression became unreadable as she saw what was now eye level. A surprised yelp escaped her lips and she spasmed. Dipper’s underwear hit him in the face.

They apologized a couple of dozen times between them as Dipper pulled his drawers back on and Mabel made her way to the door, sketchbook clutched to her chest. She stopped with her hand on the knob and stop without turning her head.

“Thanks again, Dip.”

He smiled nervously and grabbed his pants. “Of course, no prob.”

There was a pregnant pause. “And pick a better nickname than ‘Little Dipper’. The guy deserves it.”


End file.
